


Ten Years

by janetcarter



Category: The Secret Saturdays
Genre: Gen, Happy 10th anniversary!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 21:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16183238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janetcarter/pseuds/janetcarter
Summary: Some things simply refuse to stay buried.





	Ten Years

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't expect my feelings over the 10th anniversary to hit me so hard, so I wrote this today last-minute. It's dedicated to all of the wonderful friends TSS has helped me meet over the years, whether it was through Youtube or DeviantART or Tumblr or anywhere else. You're all amazing and I don't know where I'd be without you.

Whatever you do, don't imagine eleven year old Zak Saturday, now twenty-one, with his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. It reveals undercuts and ears littered with piercings, but that white patch of bangs still sprouts out front.

Don't imagine him packing for a road-trip he's going on with his friends, trying to find an old canteen he swears he threw to the top of the closet last time he used it.

Don't imagine him climbing up with a flicker of recklessness, wondering if the various nooks and crannies will support his weight, but not having the time to take precaution. His friends are waiting for him in the Griffin, after all. His foot slips so he reaches for the shelf, but grabs an unsecured item instead. His hand reflexively smashes its buttons, causing a sharp noise and a brown blur to erupt. He lands with a thud, and the hand of T'sul Kalu falls from its grappling line to the floor. The canteen crashes, too.

"Huh?" His head jerks back as his eyes refocus. When he sees the Claw, his heart skips a beat. He traces his thumb over the red and white buttons, mouth agape. His dad had designed the Claw for an eleven-year-old. While muscle memory was forged into his bones, Zak's fingers were now slightly misaligned to it, like an adult playing childhood melodies on a toy piano.

He smiles at his old partner, but it's a smile tinged in melancholy. The tumultuous years of his youth leave a bittersweet taste in his mouth. He tries not to think about them too often. It was in the past now, but for a long time he would wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air, swearing his lungs had been drained of life all over again. He retracts the Claw, the residue of orange eyes and cryptid bonds still lining the staff.

As his MVP rings, he's snapped out of his thoughts.

"Zak, are you coming?" asks Wadi. Ulraj and Francis are behind her, pressing into frame.

"You snooze you drool, Zak!" Ulraj leans forward, causing his face to take up most of the screen before Wadi tugs him back.

"It's 'you snooze you _lose_.' Even I know that," Francis scoffs. Even though Ulraj doesn't have pupils, Zak can tell he's rolling his eyes.

"Can't you guys get along without me for five minutes?" Zak jokes, toying with the Claw out of frame. "I'm on my way now."

"Hurry up, then," says Francis. "We're already running late."

"Do not mind him.” Wadi waves her hand to keep Francis from speaking again. Francis pouts and Ulraj folds his arms over his chest. “He is just excited. See you soon!"

Once the screen blinks out, he tucks his MVP into his pocket. He almost hooks the Claw into his belt, too, as he turns to leave. But the unfamiliar familiarity catches him off-guard. He stops in his tracks, bringing the Claw to eye level. It deserves better than the dark closet.

His eyes scope out his room, scanning all the relics and posters and trinkets he's collected over the years. Finally, a spot on his dresser catches his attention. He hurriedly rearranges his mementos and positions the Claw between them.

"Thanks," he whispers, his hand still resting on the staff, "for everything."

He slings his bag over his shoulder, leaving to join the friends he never would have met had he not been the boy with orange eyes. With one final glance back at the Claw, he sets off to make new memories on the foundation of the old.


End file.
